


The Crack of the Dawn

by stickmarionette



Category: Broadway RPF, Freestyle Love Supreme, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF, In the Heights - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mutants, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Case Fic, Intrigue, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mystery, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 12:50:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickmarionette/pseuds/stickmarionette
Summary: The kid put a hand on Chris' upper arm where the skin had hardened to carbon. It wasn't a cautious touch or even a curious one; he just treated it like any other skin. "Only thanks to you. Do you do this kind of thing often? Because that was some superhero quality damsel-in-distress saving. So impressive."Chris Jackson - preacher, mutant, superhero - investigates a disappearance and meets a very strange man.





	The Crack of the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisatsel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisatsel/gifts).



> Thanks to shihadchick for beta reading.
> 
> Dear recipient, thanks for saying "Freestyle Love Supreme" and "superhero AU". I hope you like this.

"Rumor is that the Prophet's a mutant," said Diego, and Chris didn't react because he was good at this secret identity business. Or at least he was trying.

"Is that right," he said casually.

They were almost entirely alone in the bodega, save for a beefy white guy in an ill-fitting black dress shirt, who was frowning at the rack of corn chips and seemed entirely lost in his own world.

Diego did have a "mutant friendly business" sticker in the window, but it was peeling like hell and holding up three other posters. _Probably a MRL giveaway,_ Chris thought, and then had to yell at himself for being uncharitable. The short time since he'd moved to the Heights had mostly been blessedly free of anti-mutant bullshit. Even the new job was aggressively pro, exactly as advertised, which had been a pleasant surprise.

"Yeah. That crooked cop he brought in swore he shot him and the bullet just glanced right off. Could've been full of shit, 'course," Diego conceded.

Chris suppressed a sigh of relief with an effort. "Really? Ain't that something. How about this new guy? He a mutant too?"

There were plenty of rumors going around about the new kid on the block. The Prophet had been around for awhile; he was old news, the guy who dressed up in priest robes and busted crooked cops and politicians. This new phantom that seemed to scare people straight like magic - that was new and worth a few stories.

"I don't know, man. Kinda creepy, if you ask me. And I don't mean mutants," Diego added hastily. "I'm not like that. Brain stuff's just scary."

They were interrupted by the beefy white guy coming up to the counter and placing a Coke and exact change on it. He nodded in lieu of speaking to Diego.

"Thanks, see ya!" Diego called after him.

Chris' eyes followed the man's retreating back until he was out of sight. "That guy from around here?"

Diego shook his head. "Nah. Lorena from down the block says he's a friend of Eduardo's, from work or something. Name's John. Bit of a weirdo if you ask me."

"Gotcha. Hey, I'm gonna head out. Thanks for the coffee."

Diego held out his fist for Chris to bump. "Anytime, my man."

John, huh.

 

*

 

_WITHOUT A TRACE: WHERE IS EDUARDO ALVAREZ?_

_28-year-old Alvarez, a passionate young activist turned assistant to NYC Mayor Wilson Fisk, disappeared more than a week ago. His friends and family want answers._

 

*

 

The Eduardo in the photo seemed somehow both serious and approachable - there was a twinkle in his brown eyes that made him look like he'd be great at parties.

Chris recognized those eyes from his mother Cecilia's near-identical face, although they were now coolly determined rather than merry.

"Was Eddie in any trouble?"

"I don't think so," Cecilia said slowly. "He's a good boy. All he ever wanted was make the neighborhood better. Even if he had to work for that man."

She didn't have to say the name; the disgust with which she pronounced the words was enough.

Chris hadn't meant to imply anything about the kid; the cops had done that enough. He couldn't exactly blame her for hearing it that way, either.

"I know he'd never be involved in anything shady. But was anything up at work? Was he stressed out?"

Cecilia sighed. "He wouldn't tell me that. He hates it when I worry."

So what made a nice kid with a promising career disappear off the face of the earth? None of the answers Chris could come up with off the top of his head were any good.

"What did the cops tell you?"

"Eff all," she bit out. "They did say a local girl saw him last. Gave me a name - friend of mine thinks he knows her. He's gonna get me her number."

"Do you think I can meet her?"

"Soon as I can arrange it," Cecilia said. She leaned forward and took his hand in hers. For such a little lady, she had quite a grip. Chris felt both stronger and smaller under her keen gaze. "Please find my son, Reverend. Or find me justice."

 

*

 

Cecilia was as good as her word. The very next day, Chris had a meeting with the last person who'd seen Eduardo alive in a cheerful Dominican cafe. She'd picked the place, and as Chris walked in he found himself approving of the choice - wide open space, lots of people around. Sensible. And the food smelled amazing.

His contact turned out to be a beautiful blonde woman with warm tawny skin who was nursing a coffee.

"Veronica Vazquez?"

She looked him up and down appraisingly. "Sure am. I guess you must be Chris Jackson. Have a seat."

"Sorry to bother you. Uh. Call me Chris. It's real nice of you to talk to me just like that." Chris found himself getting flustered under her direct gaze. It was only slightly easier to talk with a table between them. "You know Eduardo Alvarez?"

She nodded sharply. "Yeah, I know Eddie. The cops already came and asked me about it. You're not with them?"

"No, ma'am. I work at his mama's church."

"Oh." She visibly relaxed. "You don't look like a fire and brimstone type."

Chris shrugged. "I'm not. Just doing good work in God's house."

Veronica grinned. "Get that a lot, do you?"

"Oh yeah," Chris grinned back. There. That was better.

"You drink coffee?"

"All day, every day."

The coffee was very good.

Veronica stared into the depths of hers like it held the secrets of the world. Then she began to speak, in a low, fast, clipped voice. "I met him because of work, you know? I'm at a non-profit, we lobby for better infrastructure in underserved areas. Eddie was really good to talk to. He actually cared. You'd be surprised how rare that is. Well, I guess you wouldn't be."

"Actually, it's the other way. I'm usually pleasantly surprised."

"Yeah? You're an optimist, huh. Figures. So I was looking into last year's capital budget for a report and I found something - " she hesitated for the first time. "Something weird. Didn't know what it was. Just knew something was off. So I told Eddie and he said he'd look into it."

Chris caught himself learning forward, engrossed. "Did he find anything?"

Veronica deflated. "I don't know. That's why we were meeting - to talk about it. Five minutes in, he got a call and rushed off. Now he's - gone." Her voice wobbled.

"We'll find him."

"What if he's - "

"We'll find him," Chris repeated. "Or we'll find out who did it."

Veronica stared intently at his face until Chris was sure he was sweating. "You're okay," she finally said decisively.

"Thanks. That means a lot."

She snorted a laugh. "Watch yourself."

"I mean it!" Chris insisted. "Wasn't a joke."

She raised her eyebrows at that, but there was an indulgent smile playing about her face. She leaned in closer, waited until he did the same, and lowered her voice even more. "All right. Look. I wasn't the last person who saw Eddie."

"What?"

"Yeah. I didn't wanna tell the cops."

Chris didn't ask why. He heard that a lot. There could be a long, long list of reasons.

"You happy to tell me?"

"I think so," Veronica said carefully. "But don't tell anyone else."

"Course."

"His name's Paco. He works in the barbershop just down the block. You know the one?"

"Yeah, I do. Thanks so much." Chris drained his coffee and stood to go pay. "You be careful now. Who knows what this is."

Veronica smirked. "Don't you worry. I have friends keeping an eye on me."

As if on cue, three figures stood up at once from the corner table - a slim woman with short, wavy brown hair and two young white guys in t-shirts.

"Those your friends? They don't look like much," Chris couldn't resist saying.

Veronica laughed. "Don't judge a book by its cover. That's Quiara, the nerd's Anthony. Chris Sullivan's the one in the inappropriate t-shirt."

"I didn't know there was a dress code," the other Chris, who had an untidy mop of dirty blond hair, muttered. "Anyway, I guess you're not an ax murderer. Probably."

To be fair to him, the brunette was also wearing a t-shirt. Except hers said _Latinx Mutant-Baseline Alliance_. His said _mutants do it better_ and featured a borderline graphic drawing.

Chris didn't know whether to avert his eyes or laugh. "Sure. I'll take probably."

 

*

 

It was almost closing time and the only customer in the barbershop was a slight young guy in an over-sized Lauryn Hill shirt, happily chattering away at his barber in Spanish.

The other barber, a short, weathered looking older man, nodded at Chris as the door swung shut behind him.

"You after me? I'm Paco."

Chris nodded. "Yeah. Veronica sent me."

Paco had a surprisingly firm handshake and a steely stare. "Yeah, she said. She must like you."

"I hope so," Chris blurted, with maybe a bit too much fervor.

Fortunately, Paco seemed to find his adolescent tendencies charming; he almost cracked a smile. "Ha, tone it down. Yeah, I know Eddie."

Chris cast a significant glance around the small, threadbare space housing the barbershop. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

The almost-smile vanished off Paco's face. "Not really, man. Here's good."

"What about - " Chris inclined his chin in the direction of the only customer.

Paco followed his gaze, and Chris watched in surprise as a full on grin materialized on his face. "Oh, the kid? He's fine."

"If you're sure," Chris said cautiously.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Paco pulled up a chair. He didn't gesture for Chris to sit. "Eddie came in that day. He wasn't here long."

"Was he alone?"

"Y - wait, no. He was with that white dude."

Chris felt a strange tingling down his spine. "Beefy, blond?"

"Yeah. They had an argument, I think."

"What about? Can you remember?"

Paco's forehead wrinkled and he was lost in thought for a long moment. In the background, a record player spun Ruben Blades singing about a preacher. The kid and the other barber were still talking; from the snippets Chris could hear, they were arguing about the merits of various Big Pun tracks.

After what felt like forever, Paco's face cleared. "Yeah. They talked about an USB Eddie had on him and what they were gonna do with it."

_Bingo._

"Right in front of you?" Chris said incredulously.

A look of supreme smugness took over Paco's tired face. "You gotta realize something, man. Most of the time we don't speak English in here. So people _assume_ , yeah? They think they're good to talk about whatever."

 

*

 

The cops weren't yet convinced that anything about Eduardo's disappearance was suspicious, or notable. Actually, they seemed reluctant to ask any questions at all. Which was shitty and bad in a bunch of ways but did mean that his apartment wasn't, say, under police guard.

The doorman was a middle-aged brown guy with the body of a linebacker and a kindly face that reminded Chris of his old bus driver. He was smiling before Chris even opened his mouth.

"Cecilia told me you were probably coming. Come with me, I'll unlock the door for you."

"Thanks, man," Chris said, trying to conceal his bafflement. Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't that.

"He didn't do nothing wrong, Eddie," the man said gruffly. "You better prove that."

Chris bit back _I'll try_ and sent a prayer up to the good Lord. "I'll do my best."

_Do or do not. Etc._

The man smiled wider. "Good. Lock the door behind you, yeah?"

"I will. Thanks again."

The inside of Eduardo's apartment was small but fastidiously neat. Ikea furniture and shelves of DVDs and movie posters covering gaps in the wallpaper.

 _Well, at least there's not much to search_ , Chris thought, and set to work.

 

*

 

Two hours later, Chris was about ready to move from to visible spaces to secret safes and the underside of loose floorboards. He was also increasingly convinced this was going to be a waste of time.

Eduardo's laptop was missing. If he was a betting man, Chris would put money on having been beaten to the punch by the bad guys. The place might've looked undisturbed, but looks could be deceiving, and if he was up against pros -

His thoughts were interrupted by the door swinging open.

"Look, a thief! Caught in the act, no less," said a soft, scratchy voice.

Chris whirled to find the beefy blond from the bodega. "Uh huh. And you're gonna tell 'em you're meant to be here. Try again. John, is it?"

The man's mouth twitched. "You've been busy. Do you want to tell me what you found out?"

"What's it to you?" Chris asked, his brain whirling furiously. What he had wasn't a lot, but John didn't know that. If he played his cards right, this could actually work out in his favor.

John spread his arms and shrugged, a strange, liquid gesture. "I know you've been following me. Poking around in things you don't understand. Look, I know Eddie's mother must be terribly sad, but we'll all be better off if you just left it alone. Understand?"

Chris refrained from grinding his teeth with an effort. "Nah. Sorry. You're gonna have to explain it slower."

"Don't play stupid. We have eyes and ears in places you can't even dream of," John sneered. He drew a gun out of his jacket pocket and pointed it at Chris in a single, practiced motion. "Now. Let's try this again. What were you looking for?"

 _Dammit._ Chris could deal with the gun fine - that was what his mutation was for - but if someone heard and came running, he couldn't protect them and himself and stay under the radar at the same time.

"Hey, any chance I can borrow some milk?" said a cheerful voice. "I'm all out."

_What. The. Fuck._

One, Chris could've sworn John had closed the door. Two, the voice had been familiar, and now he saw the face, he realized why. It was the kid who'd been getting a trim at the barbershop. Same Lauryn Hill shirt, appealing open face, short sidecut and big guileless eyes.

"Uh, we haven't got any," Chris blurted, praying that somehow he'd buy that and leave, preferably without noticing the gun. "You should go."

John nodded almost imperceptibly in approval.

"I don't think so," the kid said, and closed the door behind him with a decisive bang. "I _really_ need the milk. You don't wanna know me without coffee."

"Please leave," Chris muttered, but even as he said it he knew it was too late and John's eyes acquired an interested gleam.

"You're not looking very threatened," John said thoughtfully to Chris, and he turned his aim on the kid in a flash. "How's this? Tell me or I'll shoot him."

"Hey!" the kid protested, theatrically bewildered, even as he put his hands up. "What'd I do?"

"Fine, leave him alone," Chris sighed. He put his hands up too and shuffled slowly in the kid's direction. "I gotta tell you, though, I don't know anything."

Chris never got to find out whatever John's snarky reply would've been. The man was two syllables in when his face froze, his eyes widened in sheer blank terror and he started backing away. His back hit the wall, he screamed and he raised his gun and fired wildly into the air.

Chris dived over the kid, activated the shield without a second thought and felt the ricocheting bullets bounce off his hardened skin.

"Motherfucker," the kid muttered. His hand tightened around Chris' arm, and then a frying pan flew in out of nowhere and hit John over the head, dropping him like a lead weight. The kid winced at the clunk. "Ouch. Is he out?"

Chris lifted his head to inspect the crumpled mass of John on the floor. "Looks like. You okay?"

The kid put a hand on Chris' upper arm where the skin had hardened to carbon. It wasn't a cautious touch or even a curious one; he just treated it like any other skin. "Only thanks to you. Do you do this kind of thing often? Because that was some superhero quality damsel-in-distress saving. _So_ impressive."

It was as if the kid had flipped a switch and gone from nondescript and unobtrusive to something else in a millisecond. Chris would definitely remember if he'd ever been the recipient of that brilliant smile before.

This guy was almost as suspicious as John, Chris reminded himself sternly. Even with the sweet innocent face. Especially then.

"Uh, thanks. Why'd you come in here anyway?"

"I do actually live in this building. And here's this suspicious looking man - I mean him, obviously, not you - so I thought I'd check it out."

That...made sense. Just a concerned neighbor doing the neighborly thing. The obvious mutation wasn't inherently suspicious, no matter what law enforcement in this country thought. Chris relaxed despite himself.

"For future reference, the milk-borrowing routine? Not a winner."

The kid giggled into Chris' shoulder. "Noted. Sorry about the mess. Should've known he'd start shooting at the drop of a hat."

"No harm," Chris said easily. He shifted his weight to try and start disentangling them and froze when the kid made a soft noise that could've been pain. "Oh - sorry for squishing you."

The kid batted his ridiculous eyelashes. "Oh no, I'm not complaining. This is real good for me. I mean, if you're cool with it?"

Chris went from vague to full awareness of all the places their bodies were touching in a bright, hot flash. It was kind of impressive. He didn't know he could flush under the skin like that, especially with the shield on.

"Uh. I don't - could you stop looking at me like that?"

The kid's smile turned wicked. "Like what?"

_Like you want something._

"I don't even know your name yet."

"Oh, that's easy. I'm Lin. I'd shake your hand, but it feels like we bulldozed over that bit of etiquette already."

"Chris. What are we gonna do with this guy?" Chris jerked his chin at John's crumpled form.

"Good question. Let's get off the floor," Lin said.

Chris clambered off Lin like he was gonna trigger an alarm if he moved wrong.

"By the way," Chris said, casually as he could manage, as he offered Lin a hand up, "what was that?"

Lin shrugged. "Boring old minor telekinesis."

Chris noticed for the first time the unobtrusive little circle-M pin on his t-shirt. Felt on slightly firmer ground asking questions.

"Not the TK - the other thing."

Lin's smile went a little wry. "You're observant."

"Have to be."

"Se-con-dary mutation," Lin said brightly. "I can make people see things."

True psionic abilities were rare, powerful, and the subject of a whole lot of fear-mongering bullshit. Far more likely to attract control orders than any other kind of mutation, too. No wonder Lin kept his hidden in favor of the more common telekinesis.

Like an iceberg, Chis realized. With most of its mass hidden underwater. And he'd just accidentally gotten a glimpse of the depths.

He summoned up the same nonchalance that got him through awkward confessions from hormonal teens at church. "Cool."

Lin continued, entirely nonplussed, so it must have worked. "So that's one of my secrets for one of yours...Prophet."

_Oh, shit._

Chris considered trying to spin a lie; immediately discarded the idea as unworkable. Lin was clearly much better at this subterfuge business. He raised his hands. "Yeah, you got me."

"Don't get my hopes up," Lin grinned. "Now, let's see what we can get out of this guy. What do you say?"

Chris hesitated, John's screams still echoing in his head. "I won't be party to torture."

Lin grinned wider and patted him on the shoulder. "I know. Just trust me. You have very few reasons to, sure, but what's life without risk?"

"Okay, but I'm watching you," Chris said, with about as much sternness as he could muster, which wasn't much.

Lin curtsied all delicate like an old school dame. "Please do. I perform best before an audience. Okay, lemme think. Oh, how about - yes, that should work."

He stepped up to John, cupped his cheek and forced his head up. "Hello, John."

When John's eyes opened, his pupils were so dilated they'd almost swallowed the iris. "Mr Mayor. I - what - where - "

"Did you destroy it?"

"Yes."

Lin didn't even pause. "Where's the backup? I know you made one. Give it to me."

John reached into his pant pocket, drew out something small and chrome, and meekly placed it in Lin's outstretched hand.

"Good." Lin's face as he stared down at John was pure cold calculation. By the time he stepped away and turned the smile on Chris, there was once again warmth in it. "Please do the honors."

With the ease of long practice, Chris punched John on the back of the head with just enough force to knock him out.

"Useful, that," Chris said carefully. Kind of made the hair stand up on the back of his hand, but he wasn't gonna let that prejudice him.

"I think so." Lin held out the USB stick. "Here."

"Just like that?" Chris asked incredulously. 

"What would I do with it? You have the connections, the name...Huge fan, by the way."

Chris snorted. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. You're amazing," Lin said softly, apparently in deadly earnest.

This guy was too damn much. "If you say so," Chris mumbled.

"I do. Like the poet Talib said - " Lin started humming. " _Even when the condition is critical, when the livin' is miserable - "_

Chris couldn't help supplying the next line. _"Your position is pivotal, I ain't bullshittin' you - "_

Lin looked like he was going to burst from happiness. _"Now, why would I lie? Just to get by?"_

"What do you do, Lin?"

"I'm a professional sub - " he paused long enough for Chris' brows to go up " - stitute teacher. And a counselor. Hunter, you know?"

Chris did know. A school for the gifted, they called it. Some others - dickheads - called it Mutie school. "Yeah, I know. Hey. Uh. I work at All Soul's just up the block."

Lin nodded. "I know the one. Unitarian, right?"

"Uh huh. We run support groups for mutant kids. Can always use volunteers."

"Religion's not really my thing," Lin said lightly. "But I can do coffee. If you want."

Did he want? His nerves pointed towards yes.

"I - sure, okay."

Lin beamed like he'd won the lottery.

They exchanged numbers. But Chris didn't hear from Lin for a while, and he was too preoccupied running down the case to dwell on it. The few times he scrolled past the contact on his phone (Lin had put himself down as _Lin-Manuel [circle-M emoji] (coffee!)_ ) he...chickened out. No, he was too busy. That was it.

 

*

 

_DAILY NEWS EXCLUSIVE: we have obtained evidence that over $10 million dollars in kickbacks for recent infrastructure projects were funneled through the office of Mayor Wilson Fisk..._

_..._

_MAYOR WILSON FISK'S PERSONAL ASSISTANT JOHN MILLER IMPLICATED IN THE DISAPPEARANCE OF EDUARDO ALVAREZ_

_..._

_CITY COUNCIL SPEAKER ALLEGRA RODRIGUEZ CALLS FOR THE MAYOR'S RESIGNATION_

 

*

 

The same three guys followed him around all day as he went to work at the Church, stepped out for lunch, and on his mid-afternoon snack run.

Chris was walking home late through a darkened and mostly empty Inwood Park when they finally decided they'd had enough and stepped out to surround him in a tree-lined corner.

Three fairly big guys, all packing. Chris spared a moment to be disappointed that was all he rated.

"Evening, fellas. Anything I can do for you?"

"You need to come with us," the tallest man said. He raised his arm, and Chris saw that he wasn't holding a gun at all, but some sort of taser. "Or we stun you and do it that way. What'd you say?"

"Tasers don't work on me," Chris said casually. Not strictly true, but worth a try.

"Oh, we know all about you freaks," said the man. "StrykerTech, see? Still wanna give it a go?"

Chris thought fast. He could try running, but there was no way of knowing if those tasers had any kind of range. He couldn't afford to leave his back open.

Fight it was. He feinted a punch, used the time it bought to throw his bag at the man closest to him, and kicked the tallest man, shield on. He connected with a sickening crunch; the man collapsed. Chris didn't wait around to see the rest; he pivoted, swept a hand out to knock the taser out of the third man's hand, and followed up with a left-hand punch.

He pulled the shield just before his fist connected with the man's skull. Then shield up again and he swerved just in time to see the taser heading for his face -

Then the man dropped the taser like it was on fire and screamed, and Chris didn't hesitate. Just like that, it was over.

"Sorry for crashing the party," said a familiar cheerful voice. "I'm sure you had it covered."

The familiar voice came from a man in a stylish dark coat, a flat cap and something that looked suspiciously like an opera mask, sitting behind Chris on a bench he was sure had been empty.

"Nah, Thanks for the help," Chris said.

"You're welcome. Ever considered laying low for a bit, til the heat dies down? Fisk knows what you did."

Chris didn't need to be told. He knew he'd stirred up a hornet's nest the moment his Daily News contact extracted the contents of the USB. Everyone in New York knew what it meant to take on Wilson Fisk. But he'd promised Cecilia.

"Says you, Phantom of the Opera."

"I so over-identified with that guy when I was a kid," Mask Guy sighed. "Talk about bad role models. And not a great voice teacher, either."

It was blindingly obvious. Chris didn't know how anybody could miss it, soon as they looked into those bright eyes.

"You never call, you never text…"

Lin looked startled, then pleased. Chris marveled at how much emotion came through the mask, and then Lin took it off and he was forcibly reminded of how much more there was. Lin stood up and held out his hand. Chris took it, not surprised when Lin turned the handshake into a quick hug.

"I could say the same about you. I'm test marketing names. What do you think? Any suggestions?

Chris pretended to consider the matter deeply. "I think you need to lose the coat. Too memorable."

"Thanks! I'm not afraid of memorable."

"And be more careful. What if they had backup?"

"So do I," Lin said. He clapped three times. On the third clap, a man suddenly appeared in front of the empty bench Lin had been sitting on.

"Finally! You get him talking about himself, he's never gonna stop."

It took Chris a moment to remember where he'd seen the guy last, because his mop of dirty blond hair was hidden under a beanie. It helped that he was wearing yet another shirt with a vaguely inappropriate illustration and the caption _wanna see my mutation?_

"Love you too!" Lin said sweetly.

Chris glanced significantly at Moptop - Chris? Was that what Veronica had said his name was? - and leaned forward. "How many of those shirts does he have?"

"You don't wanna know." Lin whispered back, and then he gestured at Moptop. "Prophet, meet Shockwave."

"We've met," Chris said.

"Yeah, we keep running into each other," Shockwave replied.

"Shock's a mutant too. We're putting together a group of...like-minded people. Interested?"

Chris could and had worked alone fine. But there was only so much he could get done, between the demanding day job and his finances and not having any kind of foothold below 181st.

"Maybe."

Lin grinned. "Wanna talk about it over a coffee?"

"Only if you get rid of that outfit first. Uh." Chris could feel his face getting hot. "I mean - "

"I know what you meant," Lin laughed.

He desperately needed to stop getting so tongue-tied. What was it about this guy?

"Is it the eyebrows?" Shockwave muttered.

Chris eyeballed him. "You got something to say?"

Shockwave put up his hands. "No, man. I'm just jealous. And now I'm just gonna go take care of these guys so you can chat. 'Kay?"

"You're the best," Lin said. "I'll tell the Director we're on. He'll be so happy to have someone more sensible around."

"You're confident," Chris said.

Lin shook his head. "No. I just have faith. We were meant to meet."

He seemed very serious. It was crazy talk, but it felt true. Not faith as Chris knew it, but faith all the same.

"So what's this group called?"

"Anthony has some terrible ideas he'll no doubt tell you all about. They all make us sound like a bad parody jazz band if you ask me. You know that Coltrane album, _A Love Supreme_?"

**Author's Note:**

>   1. Chris and Lin bonded at their real life first meeting over [Talib Kweli's Get By](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVtpXvzzXiA).
>   2. Wilson Fisk did actually become mayor of NYC in Daredevil comics.
>   3. Veronica here is of course Veronica (Vazquez) Jackson, who Chris met at In the Heights auditions IRL.
>   4. Quiara Alegria Hudes (Heights book writer), Anthony Veneziale (FLS founding member), Chris Sullivan/Shockwave (FLS founding member).
>   5. Every time Lin describes his former occupation as "professional sub" I die a little inside. Blame him for that one, not me.
>   6. Freestyle Love Supreme's name comes from the John Coltrane album A Love Supreme.
>   7. If you got this far, I really really appreciate you.
> 



End file.
